Omg, guys! Lol I can't believe how far this fanfiction has come, it's finally ending T_T. With bittersweet emotion, I present to you this final chapter...Enjoy!

Tracey

Graveyards were supposed to be terrifying at night. We were taught to be afraid of them. There was always something sinister hiding behind the shadowy headstones, waiting to ambush unsuspecting visitors, at least in the movies.

But in truth, graveyards weren't so bad, especially when you've spent as much time here as me. It was the anniversary of Madrazo's death, the day the nightmare finally ended, but I couldn't seem to let go. I couldn't move on. Sometimes the memories of the past would weigh so heavily on my head it felt like it would explode, and the only way to relieve the pain was to come here. To mourn, to find peace…

The pale luminous moonlight bathed the land in silvery light, washing away the dullness from the old, slanted headstones and statues of winged angels. The translucent color smoothed away cracks, and dissipated shadows. The great full moon was a gleaming lamp of endless energy. Beautiful, and otherworldly, it transformed the burial ground into a glimmering sanctuary of peace and reflection.

I walked the gravel path until I reached a wrought iron gate and a cold, mossy tombstone. I sank to my knees into the dewy grass and touched a hand to the memorial plaque, reading the inscription again as if I haven't a hundred times before.

"Always in our hearts," I mumbled through trembling lips.

The drive back home was the same as always—boring, vacant, lonely. I crawled into bed, alone, silence echoed in my ears like a constant white noise that wouldn't shut up. There was no one to hold, no one to talk to, I was all by myself now.

Nausea churned unrestrained in my empty stomach. My head swam with regrets, the warmth of the covers did nothing to settle the wave of apprehension sweeping over me. There was an ache in my heart, a sick and fiery gnawing that tortured me night and day. The grief was eating me alive from the inside out and a year's time still wasn't enough to mend the damage.

I found myself bursting to tears, my whimpers escalated into uncontrollable sobbing. With no one here to judge me, I cried loud and without shame.

The door flung open, a tall figure emerged from the darkness.

I yelped, nearly jumping out of my skin. "H-hello? Who's there?"

"It's me, babe," Franklin said, flipping on the lights. "You good? What's wrong?"

Crap! Panicking internally, I turned over, hiding my face from him. "What are you doing here? I-I thought you and Lamar were going out of town for the weekend?"

"Yeah, but I forgot my wallet." He sat on the bed and gazed down at me. "Why were you cryin'?"

I cleared my throat. "I wasn't crying."

"Yeah, you were."

"No, I wasn't."

"Yeah."

"No."

He sighed. "Trace—"

"Frank, just go and have fun on your stupid trip. Madrazo's gone, you don't have to babysit me anymore. I'm fine."

"Baby, I'm your husband. Takin' care of you ain't considered babysittin' no more. We made vows, remember?" He lifted a hand and smoothed my hair back from my face. "Talk to me. Tell me what's goin' on in that cute little head of yours."

With a sigh, I gathered the broken fragments of my strength and met his gaze head on. "I'm sad, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear? You must think I'm so pathetic."

"Nah, but you are dramatic—"

"I'm not dramatic!" I blurted and beat my fist against his chest. He was unflinching, his muscles hard as stone, the impact of the hit caused my knuckles to ache. "Ow…"

"You are dramatic," he said with a rueful grin, his teeth dazzling against his warm brown skin. One look at his beautiful, dreamy smile and I had almost forgotten why I was upset in the first place. That square cut jaw of his, the rugged beard and pretty amber eyes—heavens but Franklin was something to look at! It was hard to believe a man so effortlessly sexy and masculine, was my husband. We've been married for a year, and still, I couldn't get over how lucky I was.

He took my hand in his, the ball of his thumb stroked my sore knuckles tenderly. "You upset 'bout the road trip?"

"No," I sniffed. "I want you to have fun with your friends."

"You wanna come with me to Liberty City?"

"No."

"You sure?"

I nodded. "You haven't had time for yourself in like forever, Frank. You pushed everyone else aside to take care of me while I was pregnant. Then we had the baby and you've been on daddy duty ever since. My grandparents were nice enough to keep the baby this weekend so we can have a break. You and Lamar have been planning this road trip for the longest—"

"I appreciate what yo' grandparents are doin', but I don't need no break, babe. Not from you, not from our little girl. Honestly, I prefer to be here. It doesn't feel right bein' away from y'all."

"You deserve a weekend to relax and have fun, Frank. Everyone needs a break sometimes, even a model husband and father like you." I kissed the side of his shaved head.

"And you deserve to be left here all by yourself while I go and have fun, huh?"

I rested my head on his shoulder and sighed unevenly. "I'll be fine."

His brows wrinkled at my response. For a moment, he observed me, silently retreating into his thoughts. Then, finally, he said, "Ay, you went to that graveyard again, didn't you?"

I flinched, guiltily slipping away from him. "I-I did. How'd you know?"

"You always act weird whenever you come back from that place." He laid a hand on my shoulder. "If it makes you this upset, maybe you shouldn't go there no more, girl. Madrazo is gone, a'ight? It's over, it's time to move on. Let the past stay buried in the past. You keep dwellin' on old shit and you ain't never finna be happy."

"No, no, you don't get it." I scrambled across the bed away from him and stood up. "Screw Madrazo, he can rot in hell for all I care. This isn't about him."

He stared at me blankly as I paced the room. "A'ight, what's goin' on then?"

"The girl in the barn, the one we couldn't save…"

Franklin scratched his bearded cheek, his expression puzzled. "One of Madrazo's hoes?"

"The cops found her body buried in a haystack, not long after the paramedics rushed you to the hospital." I swallowed past the knot in my throat before continuing, "She's a Jane Doe, no one knows who she is or where she came from. I paid for her burial site, Frank! And no one had the decency to come forward and confirm her identity. It's like no one in the entire world cares about her but me. I'm the only one who ever visits her grave. I don't get it! Why doesn't anyone give a crap about her but me?"

A frown crossed his face. "Trace, I'm sorry. I didn't know—"

"She could've been me," I stated flatly. "What if I didn't have you? Or Trevor? Or a really annoying Dad that's hard to kill? I could've been one of those dead girls, and no one would even care."

"But you ain't dead. You're alive, and you have a family that's dependin' on you to stay that way. This world is fucked up, I know that better than anyone, but dwellin' on it only makes shit worse. It fucks with your head—"

"I feel like we could've done more, Frank. She would be alive right now if we had gotten to the barn quicker."

He shrugged. "There's no way of knowin' that for sure."

My mind whirled at his dry response. Madrazo put us through absolute hell. He killed people, innocent people. After everything we've been through, how could Franklin be so detached and unperturbed? Was I that weak? Or did he simply not care?

Devastated, I dropped to my knees before him, clutching his hands, staring into his eyes, my voice cracked with emotion. "What if I'm right? What if we didn't do enough? How am I supposed to live with that?"

"C'mere." In one forward motion, I was in his arms. He laid back on bed, my form molded against his. He was warm, and the protectiveness of his embrace comforting like always. "I know things were hard a year ago, but we made it."

"Barely," I added. "You almost died. I thought I was gonna have to raise our daughter without you."

"No," he retorted between clenched teeth, his voice grating harshly.

Concerned, I sat up, my thighs straddling his. "Babe, are you okay? What's wrong?"

Franklin let out a deep breath through flared nostrils, "I'm good," he spoke slowly, with quiet, controlled effort. "Never had my pops in my life, and whenever I think 'bout that cycle repeatin' itself with my daughter…"

"Is she the reason we live in the mountains now, completely secluded from the rest of the world? I mean, you never go to LS anymore, you rarely ever hang around Dad, Trevor, or Lamar. You don't even pick up your phone unless it's for me."

"I'm tryin' to be a better man. If I start chillin with the same old cats from before, then I'll fall into the same old habits that got me fucked up in the first place, you feel me? I'm out of the game now. The stealin', killin', gangbangin'—I know how badly shit like that can fuck up a family, I witnessed it firsthand. There's no happy ending unless you give it all up. It's not easy cuttin' motherfuckers off, but it's better than endin' up in jail, or worse."

I buried my face in his neck and planted a gentle kiss there. Little did he know, he already was a good man, the best husband a woman could ever ask for. He didn't have to try very hard either. Sure, he's made some bad choices in the past, like murdering people, and stealing their cars or whatever. And he was difficult to get along with at times, his bad temper and random mood swings drove me crazy, but deep down, he was intrinsically good. And smart. And perfect…

Okay, maybe I'm a little biased.

Franklin's phone lit up in his pocket, vibrating and vibrating. Instead of answering the call, his arms remained firm around my waist, one hand caressed the length of my back, my spine tingled at his teasing touch.

Annoyed by the constant vibrating, I asked, "Aren't you going to answer that?"

"Nah." He curled an arm behind his head, using his elbow as a pillow. "I'm good right here."

"What about the road trip? You're supposed to be meeting up with Lamar, right?"

"Fuck it, I'll cancel—"

I slapped a hand over his mouth. "What? No! You can't cancel, you've been planning this forever!"

He captured my wrist and rolled on top of me, his lips hovered over mine, so full and kissable. "Why can't I stay here with you, babe? A weekend alone, just you and me—imagine what we could do without a cryin' ass baby constantly botherin' us."

I smiled, "We could catch up on sleep."

"Right? So much sleep." He dropped a featherlight kiss on my forehead. "Or, we could go on a road trip of our own."

"No, I'm not going to stupid Liberty City. It's just as crazy as Los Santos, probably even worse."

"What makes you so sure, girl? You ain't never been there. You might like it, it'll be fun. Besides, I got family up there. My cousin been wantin' to meet you—"

"Frank, I don't wanna," I whined, hoping my high-pitched tone would annoy him enough to change his mind.

But he was determined to get me out of bed, his mind already made up for adventure. "Nope. We doin' this." He threw me over his shoulders and stood, lifting me into the air.

Legs flailing, I clung to him, "Oh my god, Frank! What are you doing? Stop! Let me go right now, you dingus! I'm not a toy, you can't manhandle me like this. This isn't fair!"

"Don't struggle, babe, just let it happen." He whisked me into the bathroom and set me down, my feet landing uncomfortably on the cold tiled floor.

I tried to push past him, but his huge meaty body blocked the doorway. He wouldn't budge! "Holy crap, why are you so fat? Seriously, you need to lay off the protein shakes."

Brows furrowed, he glanced down at himself. "What? This is all muscle, girl. Well, mostly muscle. I gained a little weight while you were pregnant. You were eatin' so much, and then I started eatin' a lot 'cause watchin' you eat made me hungry—"

I grimaced. "Are you calling me fat right now?"

"No, no, no," he blurted out in a rush, his cheeks flushed scarlet. "That's not what I meant, sweetie. You look fine, so fine—you are bangin', babe. For real, did you just have a baby? I can't tell, you bad as hell." He smiled sweetly, apologetically. "How you get rid of that baby weight so fast? What's yo' secret?"

I grinned at my silly, lovable husband. "You're so lucky I love you."

He chuckled cutely, the flush of color on his cheeks deepened. Even after a year of being together, he still swooned over typical things like sweet talk, and hugs, and cuddling. The way his rugged face would crack into a boyish grin, and his tendency to get all tongue-tied whenever I flattered him was honestly the most adorable thing ever. I wouldn't trade it for the world.

"What is it with you and sweet talk?" I asked. "Why do you act all weird whenever I say nice things to you? You should be used to it by now."

"Let's save this conversation for the road. Take a shower and be dressed in thirty, a'ight?"

I took his hand. "Can't we take a shower together?"

"Nah, babe, I just took a shower—"

"Frank, please. I hate taking showers without you. It's so much more fun when we're together."

His mouth twitched with amusement. He shrugged out of his sweater and unbuttoned his jeans, revealing the rippling six-pack of abs I've come to know and love. "So if I hop in the shower with you, that means you comin' with me to Liberty City, right?"

"Maybe," I teased. "Only if you make this shower worth my while."

He gravitated close, his powerful body surrounded me. The sweetly intoxicating musk of him overwhelmed me as he showered kisses around my lips and along my jaw. "Is that a challenge, baby?" he asked between kisses. "Because I'm tellin' you right now, you ain't gon' win."

Liberty City was a vast labyrinth of untidy streets, large noisy trains and packed stores, gas stations and glowing billboards, garbage and waste, with the occasional church and office building tucked between all the cramped chaos. The polluted air stunk of smog and car exhaust, and the traffic here was the worst. No one knew how to effing drive to save their lives.

Franklin slouched against the door as we inched very slowly along in rush hour traffic. Horns honked fiercely all around us, drivers shouted death threats and spat curses at one another through their windows. A few moments ago, two guys got out of their car and started fighting, the altercation clogged up traffic even worse.

The road rage was contagious, the veins in my husband's forehead seemed like they were on the verge of literally popping out, and his grip on the steering wheel was so tight, the leather was tearing slightly at the seams.

It's been a while since I witnessed him this angry. It was bad. Liberty City traffic really brought out the worst in people.

Cautiously, I placed a hand on his knee and squeezed. "Frank, calm down."

"I am calm," he grumbled menacingly through clenched teeth. But it was all a big fat lie. He wasn't calm, he wasn't calm at all.

I glanced at his hard, scowling face and sighed. "Seriously? You look like you're about to kill someone right now."

"It's been, what, forty-five minutes now? And we hardly moved a goddamn inch. Fuck, it's like watchin' cheap paint dry on an old dude's shriveled-up asshole. You don't wanna watch, it's fuckin' painful and sickenin', but you can't look away 'cause your trapped in yo' seat and it never fucking ends."

"Um, babe, what does that even mean?"

"Nothin'. Just forget it." He rested his head against the rim of the steering wheel. "Man, fuck this city. What kind of self-hatin', deranged ass motherfucker would wanna live in a bullshit ass place like this?"

"It was your idea to come here," I replied, casually reapplying my mascara in the rearview mirror. "If it were up to me, I'd totally be in bed right now."

He angled his head slightly to glare at me. "It was your idea to go to dinner during rush hour. All we had to do was wait an hour or so for traffic to die down, but nah, you couldn't wait. You just had to have yo' nasty ass piña colada and stale ass nachos. Why can't you slow down sometimes, baby? What's so hard 'bout havin' a little patience? Everythin' is always now, now, now—"

"For your information, they weren't stale, you ass. They were good, I really enjoyed them."

"Cool," he rolled his eyes. "I'm real happy for you, girl. I'm glad the trip was worth it for one of us."

"Okay, now you're being a bigger drama queen than me. And can you cut it with the sarcasm? It's so annoying, you remind me of my dad."

The beginning of a smile tipped the corners of his mouth. "Fuck you. You ten times more annoyin' than I am."

I pouted my lips. "You don't really think that, do you?"

Smothering a grin, he turned away. "Nuh-uh, stop it. It's hard to be miserable when you bein' cute like that."

"You can't resist my charms. I'm gonna make you happy if it's the last thing I do." I reached across to him, planting taunting little kisses along the side of his face. Once my lips trailed down to the back of his neck, he shivered, sensitive to my touch.

"Mmm." Head still pressed against the steering wheel, Franklin muttered, "That feels good, girl. Do it again."

"Like this?" With a slow, sensuous movement, I flicked my tongue over the nape of his neck. My effort was rewarded with another shiver of pleasure from my husband. "Wow, it's been like a year and I'm still learning your kinks."

"Yeah, looks like I'm still learning 'bout myself too. I didn't know how much I liked that shit until now." He sighed, a rush of red stained his cheeks. "Fuck, Trace…"

"Aw, what's wrong?"

"Nothin' is wrong, I mean, besides the traffic and shit. I don't know, I was just thinkin', like damn, how the fuck did I end up here? I have my own crib, a kid, more money than I'll ever fuckin' need…" He glanced at me. "And I got you, girl. We married," there was an edge of disbelief in his voice. "We're married. I'm so damn in love with you, and you feel the same way. This thing we got goin' on, it's real, babe. Can you believe that shit?"

My heart fluttered. I hugged his muscled arm close to my chest and squeezed. "It is pretty amazing, isn't it?"

"Yeah, I just…never thought I'd have a happy ending. Marriage, kids, responsibilities—didn't think that life was for me. Not after all the shit I've done."

"You deserve a happy ending too, Frank. More than me, more than anyone. You've been through so much, it'd be a cosmic injustice for the universe not to grant you happiness and stuff. You know what? I can't believe you gave me a lecture about dwelling on the past. You, my lovely husband, dwell on the past way more than I do."

"I mean, you ain't lyin'. I overthink the fuck outta everythin'."

"So take your own advice, and stop being sad over crap that doesn't matter anymore." I pinched his cheek. "You know, I knew you were the man for me from the first time I laid eyes on you."

"You mean when I saved you from them creepy ass kidnappers?"

"No, before that. You were outside the house sitting on the steps with your super cool motorcycle. I thought you were hot."

"Wait, hold up. You saw my black ass posted up outside your crib in Vinewood fuckin' Hills—a complete stranger, and you weren't scared?"

"Well, you were a little scary looking, but all of daddy's business partners are. I figured you were one of them. Then you saved me. That's how I knew for sure you were total boyfriend material."

"Boyfriend material?" He scoffed. "Nah, I was an angry, moody motherfucker back then, worse than I am now, but I appreciate the vote of confidence. The only thing that was really keepin' us together was Madrazo. If anythin', we can thank the crazy motherfucker for that."

"Yeah right. You totally had the hots for me. Admit it, our date on Valentine's Day was amazing. You don't forget a date like that. You would've found your way back to me regardless of Madrazo."

"Maybe, babe. Maybe." Traffic finally started moving at a steady pace again. Franklin continued, his focus returned to the road as he spoke. "Who woulda thought an angry ass dude like me and a ditzy airhead like you would get along so well?"

"I'm not an airhead," I muttered. "I'm just as smart as everyone else."

"It's all good, babe. You can leave all the thinkin' and complex reasonin' to me, a'ight?" He gave a gruff laugh. "Wouldn't want you to hurt that little ass head of yours tryna formulate thoughts you can't handle."

I nudged him with my elbow. "That's not funny, Frank. You're being a dick."

He bit his lip in attempt to stifle his grin. "What? You can't take a joke?"

"You're not joking, you're purposely being cruel," I snapped. "I'm smart, super smart. You're the dumb one."

His expression stilled and grew serious. "You sensitive today, more than usual. The traffic must be gettin' to you too, huh?"

Silently, I crossed my arms over my chest and shook my head.

He touched my arm lightly, the gentle gesture pleading for my attention. "You good, Trace? Talk to me, baby."

"Why should I? What does it matter what a dumb person thinks?"

He started snickering again. "It matters when you married to one—"

"Oh my god!" I punched him. "Stop! It's not funny!"

After fifteen or so minutes of listening to my husband's stupid jokes regarding my intelligence, we finally made it to our destination, the mall. It was huge, the building touched the cloudless blue sky like a castle. Composed of broad slabs of glass and white monochromatic brick, the imposing skyscraper may have been one of the tallest in all of Liberty City.

An endless swarm of people rushed through the spinning glass doors. I was dying to get inside myself. Makeup and shoes were my guilty pleasure, and my social media stalkers needed new content as badly as I needed retail therapy. I opened my palm to Franklin, my fingers itching with excitement. "Your credit card, please."

He whipped out his wallet, grabbed his card, and held it between his two fingertips. When I tried to reach for it, he pulled back.

"Frank, come on," I whimpered softly. "I'm really not in the mood to play right now, just give it to me already."

"Baby, I want to," he replied. "But we need to talk first."

"Is this about the last time I went shopping? I thought we talked about this already."

"You dropped one hundred bands on shoes. Just shoes. That type of bread don't grow on trees, girl."

"A hundred thousand—so what? You can afford it."

Brows knotted tight, his expression was one of pained tolerance. "Don't you think spendin' that type of green on designer bullshit is kind of overdoin' it? I understand you wanna look fly and shit, I do too, but we ain't billionaires. We ain't got it like that, baby."

With a resigned shrug, I murmured, "We have so much money, Frank. You act like we're about to go bankrupt or something."

"If you keep spendin' hundreds of thousands every week, shit, we just might." Franklin rooted through the glovebox for a cigar, lit it, and took a deep drag, exhaling a long trail of smoke through his flared nostrils. For a moment he stared blankly through the car window at the people crossing the street in droves, the cigar burning incessantly above his lap.

What was he thinking? Was he mad at me? Disappointed? It was only one hundred thousand dollars. Why was he making such a big deal about it? The muscles in my stomach clenched, the tense stillness between us had me on edge.

Finally, he broke the silence, "Before I met you, yo' pops was takin' care of you financially. And now I am, which is cool. I'm a'ight with that. But when you come from a shitty economic background like mine, you learn the importance of money. It's pretty fucked up that Michael never taught you how to manage it."

I blinked back the sudden scalding tears in my eyes. "I feel like you're belittling me."

"I want you to make good choices, Trace. I want you to put yo' pride aside for a second and listen to me without gettin' defensive." With a heavy sigh, he opened the window and tapped the hanging ashes of his cigar onto the ground. "What the fuck am I doin'? This road trip was supposed to be fun and I'm over here givin' you a lecture 'bout bullshit you don't give two fucks about."

"Frank, I do care."

Lips pressed tight into a grimace, he shook his head. "It's cool, we can talk more 'bout it later."

He handed me his card. I stared at him. "Aren't you coming with me?"

"I'ma go pull up on my cousin and see what's up. I don't wanna get in the middle of yo' shoppin' spree. You know how impatient I get—"

"You're not impatient, you just hate big crowds. Which is weird because the city you were born and raised in is full of big crowds."

"I don't like motherfuckers, I'm paranoid. If it were up to me, I wouldn't leave you by yourself, but little cus' is waitin' for me and I can't be two places at once. Unless…" He gave my hand a gentle squeeze. "You can save the mall for tomorrow?"

"No way. I've been looking forward to this all day." I threw open the car door and stepped onto the noisy sidewalk. I took a deep steadying breath, the fresh crisp air was surprisingly calming after the nerve-racking conversation Franklin and I just had. He could be so intense sometimes. I couldn't shake this feeling like I disappointed him…

Whatever, he'll get over it soon. We were both a little crabby after the long drive. Some space would do us some good. However, before I made it across the street to the mall's glorious spinning doors, a pair of strong, familiar arms wrapped around me from behind. I gasped, all my conscious thought melted away once his warmth found me. "You didn't say bye," he said, his lips grazed the edge of my ear with every word, sending shivers rippling up my spine.

I turned and looked up at him. In the dead center of Liberty City at the busy intersection, surrounded by a mixture of bankers, actors, wealthy house wives, and influential business men, Franklin's beautifully dark skin, urban attire and ruggedly masculine appeal was out of place here—so out of place in fact, that some people were purposely going out of their way to avoid being anywhere near him. Women clutched their purses as they rushed past, while others crossed the street entirely.

"Call me when you done and I'll pick you up," Franklin smiled.

Oddly enough, he didn't seem to be bothered by the people avoiding him, not even their offensive stares. Was he used to people reacting to him this way? Was it a normal, everyday thing to be treated like an outcast because he looked different? What was wrong with him? Was he not good enough for their standards?

My pulse raced. There was a sourness building steadily in the pit of my stomach. How dare they judge my husband? Screw all of them, the stupid, conceited bigots! Heat licked my skin as another woman clutched her purse as she wobbled past us in her cheap stiletto heels.

I shouted after her. "That's right, keep walking, you dirty whore! No one wants your ugly, bargain-basement bag, okay? Get the fuck over yourself, slut!" Angrily, I rose my voice over the speeding taxi drivers and annoying cell phone chatter, high enough for the world to hear me roar. "You should all be fucking ashamed of yourselves! My husband has more money than all of you! You're all fucking peasants compared to him—"

Franklin sealed his lips over mine, putting an abrupt end to my raging rant. I was upset, utterly distressed by the audacity of these people, but the moment his mouth began to caress mine with a tender, yet urgent passion, all my troublesome thoughts instantly faded. I swooned, clinging tight to his broad shoulders to keep myself afloat. It was a lingering kiss, our breath mingling, the expert movement of his lips was a possessive, divine ecstasy that could make any woman weak in the knees and beg for more.

The chaos of the city and the ignorant masses occupying it fell somewhere far away beneath our dreamy intimacy. I didn't care who was watching. I didn't care what they thought of us. All that mattered was the warmth spreading throughout my body, the way he could light my brain on fire and melt my worries away with a single kiss. I lived for moments like this. His love was my salvation, my shameless addiction, a soothing balm for the soul after a hard day.

Despite our occasional arguments and disagreements, no matter how negatively people judged him, he'll always have a special place in my heart. He was the love of my life, the father of my child…he was everything to me.

Reluctantly, he broke the kiss for much-needed breath. There were eyes on us, staring, glaring. However, my focus was fixed solely on my gorgeous husband. He towered over me, his sharply sculpted face flushed with the most adorable tint of red. I chuckled at his cute blush, and then he started laughing too, the both of us lost in our own little world.

I stroked his head affectionately, the short wavy texture of his hair felt nice against my fingertips. "I love you so much."

His forehead touched mine, the sweet gesture a silent affirmation that he felt the same. "You done bein' crazy now? Can I trust you to go into the mall and act like a civilized human being? You scarin' the classy white people, baby. That type of shit can get us in trouble."

"So what? I have good lawyers. If loving you is a crime, then they oughta lock me up right now and throw away the effing key." I kissed his cheek, turned away, and began shouting again. "You hear that, miserable cunts? I'm in love with a black man and I'm proud! Woo!"

Two hours had breezed by and I had spent majority of the time in the shoe store, trying on heel after heel. The mall was going to be closing soon and I haven't bought an effing thing. I wanted to shop responsibly for once, one pair was all I really needed, but it was so hard to choose. I couldn't make up my mind. There were dozens of cute options, all of which had a hefty price tag to match. I wasn't willing to settle for anything less than designer, I had a reputation to keep after all.

I sighed. So many choices. If only I could buy them all. Was this what it's like to be poor? Because if so, being poor sucked hard.

My phone chimed in my purse. Someone was calling. I picked up as I continued to scan the seemingly endless aisle of shoes. "Hello?"

"Tracey," Agent Smith voice seeped from the speaker. "How are you doing, love?"

I blinked. "Smith? How the heck did you get my new number?"

"Erm, you contacted me about a week ago requesting information about a Jane Doe. Apologies, did it slip your mind?"

"Kind of, yeah. Hey, where are you right now?"

"Liberty City, I'm on vacation—"

"Great, do you wanna come to the mall and help me pick out some shoes?"

"Uh, what? Shoes? Hm, give me a moment to take a gander at my schedule." There was a weird scuffling sound, followed by gurgling and groaning, like someone on the other end of the line was struggling.

I tucked the receiver closer to my ear. "Smith? What's going on? Are you okay?"

"Please, man," a muffled voice cried. "I told you everything I know. Don't kill me—"

Boom! A gunshot rang out so loud, I cringed, almost dropping the phone. What the hell?

"Apologies," Agent Smith said, casual as ever. "It appears my schedule is free now. Text me the address, sweetheart, and I shall be there momentarily."

"Okay, um, see you soon. Bye." I hung up with a sigh. Well, that was kinda weird. But considering Smith's line of work, I wasn't surprised. Federal agents kill people all the time according to my husband.

It took him about thirty minutes to get here. It was a big department store, but he was easy to find. He stuck out like a sore thumb here, being the only six-foot-four man wandering about a women's shoe emporium. He beamed at the sight of me, removing his sunglasses and patting down the creases in his finely tailored charcoal-gray suit. There was a gun on his hip, and a wire hooked around his ear.

"You don't look like you're on vacation to me," I muttered.

He straightened his striped silk tie and lowered his earpiece. "Well, I am on vacation, sort of."

There was a spot of crimson in his hair. It was painfully obvious and distinct in comparison to his pretty blonde strands. "Smith, you have blood in your hair."

"Pardon?" He ran a hand through his slicked back locks, wiping away the stain. "Is it gone?"

"Much better," I said, turning my attention back to the shoes. "So there's nine pairs that I like, but I can only buy one."

"Goodness, you mean to tell me you aren't going to buyout the entire store?" He grinned. "Where is Tracey and what have you done with her?"

"My husband thinks I've been overspending so yeah, I'm trying to be price conscious, frugal or whatever. It's super lame—"

Agent Smith caught my arm in a stern grip, the smile on his face vanished. "You are lawfully wedded? To Mr. Clinton?"

"Yeah," I pulled away. "You knew we were engaged. Why are you being so weird about it?"

"I did not receive an invitation to the wedding. Why was I excluded? I'm not that bad, am I?"

"I didn't want any drama at my wedding."

"Me? Drama?" A hand flew dramatically to his chest. "My, you offend me."

I bit my lip to suppress a smile. "My husband doesn't feel comfortable around you, Smith."

"Is he…" Agent Smith leaned close, his face split into a broad, teasing smile. "Intimidated by me?"

I cackled, amused by the accusation. "You do remember kidnapping me a year ago, right?"

"Ah, right. He's still holding a grudge."

"We both are. Getting snatched from the safety of your home isn't something you just get over, you know?"

"Of course, but in my defense, I had no choice. Would you not do the same for your daughter?"

"I would," I picked up a pair of purple pumps. "What do you think?"

He surveyed the shoe briefly and shook his head. "No, sweetie, purple is not for you. Red compliments you better, I believe. The color is bold, powerful, sexy, and it really brings out your skin tone."

"You are so right, Smith." I tossed the pumps aside and continued my search. "Let me know if you see anything cute, okay?"

"Of course. How is your daughter, if you don't mind me asking? I haven't had the pleasure of meeting her. What is she like?"

"Oh my god, having a mixed baby is not what it's cracked up to be. She cries, a lot. My mom says she's a spitting image of me when I was a baby, besides the dark curly hair. I'm still learning how to manage it, the texture is different than I'm used to. She's great though, she's growing up so fast."

"If the child shares any resemblance to her mother, I'm sure she's quite lovely indeed."

"Thank you. I am quite marvelous after all."

"And humble," he added with a playful smirk. "So very humble."

"Right?"

A saleslady in a bulky, wool knit belted cardigan turned into our aisle. "We close in five," she announced, her bony face knotted in a mean scowl. She glared at us for a moment before storming off.

"I dare say someone's having an awful day at work today," Agent Smith muttered.

I sank onto the padded bench, kicking the empty shoe boxes scattered across the floor aside. "Well, so much for shopping…"

Smith sat down next to me. It was evening now, the mall was quiet, the frantic rush of the day had finally ended. No sirens, horns, or honking. No people. Just the gentle hum of the central air conditioning and footsteps in the distance. I smiled to myself. In a hectic, anxiety-inducing city like this, I was beginning to really appreciate the rare moments of calmness.

"I miss this," Agent Smith murmured.

I glanced at him. "What?"

"Being around you," he confessed sheepishly, his voice dropped almost to a whisper. "It's a nice break from work. Everything is simple. Fun. Relaxed. No mind games, no stress. We're just two generally decent people trying to make it in this absurd, chaotic world of raging lunatics."

"Honestly I think we're kind of crazy too."

"Kind of is the key word, love. To survive in Los Santos and Liberty City, you need a bit of crazy in you."

"Are people nutjobs in Britain too?"

"You have no idea." He shifted closer, his thigh brushed mine. "It's been a year since we've seen each other. Tell me, how are you really? Are you happy? Is life treating you well?"

My cheeks burned, conscious of the bright blue eyes focused on me. There was genuine concern in his gaze. "I'm fine, Smith," I squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. "You're not my bodyguard anymore, you don't have to worry about me."

His expression grew pinched with somber emotion. He was stricken, tears brimmed on his lashes. Clearly distressed by something, his shoulders slumped as if the emotional burden of whatever unknown sadness he held deep inside was weighing him down. Regardless of the whole kidnapping and shooting my dad thing, he was always there for me in the past when I was upset. Whenever I felt alone in the world and desperately needed help, he'd always show up. It was only right to return the favor.

I threw my arms around him, chest to chest, I could feel the thundering of his pounding heart. "Smith," I whimpered, my eyes watering out of pure concern for my old friend. "Don't be sad. I hate it when you're sad."

"Forgive me, dear," he said, impassioned, his voice cracked. "I di-did not mean to spill my emotions on you tonight, I am so sorry—"

"No, don't apologize. I've dumped my emotional baggage on you plenty of times." I rubbed his back soothingly. "Let it all out. It's okay. I got you."

His distinguished face red and wet with tears, he planted a kiss on my temple. It was a light, platonic touch, sweet and harmless. I dipped a hand in my pocketbook and wiped his face with a tissue. He mumbled fondly, "Thank you, love."

For a moment we lingered there, simply enjoying each other's presence. After all this time away from one another, I didn't realize how much I missed him until today.

"I know I've made mistakes in the past." He took my hands in his, and met my gaze squarely, unashamed of the wet vulnerability glinting in his eyes. "Tracey, I beg of you, could you find it in your heart to forgive me? I want to start over with you, as friends. We can take things at a snail's pace if you desire, perhaps one day we can be best friends again like before—before I betrayed you."

"Friends?" I pulled away, weighing his proposal. "Are you sure we can be just friends? After everything we've been through…"

"Well…" He sighed, his face set firmly in deep thought. "Your heart belongs to another, and I've come to realize that won't ever change. Friends is all we can ever be. Yes, it hurts me so, but to never see you again, to be without you completely—the pain is much more severe."

"Then it's decided, we're besties again," I beamed. "I always wanted a gay best friend so Franklin will just have to get over it."

"I'm not gay—"

"I missed having you around," I continued. "And it's okay to be gay, Smith. You don't have to hide things like that from me, we're best friends."

He shook his head and went on with a heavy sigh. "Are you sure about our friendship? I have no intention of causing a rift in your marriage. I have done enough damage in the past—"

"You won't, don't worry. But if we're really gonna be best friends again, I need you to promise me one thing."

"Anything, love."

I clutched the collar of his suit. "Don't you ever lie to me again. Seriously Smith, we can't be BFFs if we don't trust one another."

"You are absolutely right," he gave my hand a tender squeeze. "I solemnly swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. If that is not good enough for you, I can find a bible to swear on, perhaps?"

"That won't be necessary, I have a test for you instead." I pat down the creases in his collar. "I know you aren't on vacation from your job. What are you doing in Liberty City? I want the truth. Are you on a mission?"

"A self-appointed mission, yes. While investigating the identity of the Jane Doe from the barn, I noticed there was a spike in abductions this year. Hundreds of women being snatched off the streets, never to be seen again, most of the mysterious disappearances happening in the heart of Liberty City itself. It's odd, this is such an overcrowded city, and no one has seen a thing. It's like these women are disappearing into thin air without a trace."

I gasped. "Wait, do you think the disappearances are connected to the Cartel?"

"I have a hunch that is the case. We cut off the head of the lion, Madrazo, but that wasn't enough. The arms dealing, the sex trafficking, the drug smuggling—the Cartel lives on I'm afraid, under new management."

I shot up from my seat. "Okay, so what are we going to do about it? How do we stop the bad guys?"

"We?" A patronizing laugh slipped from his lips. "I am the federal agent here. Fighting the good fight against the Cartel is my duty, not yours."

"I can be useful! Those girls need all the help they can get. I can't just sit by while all these terrible things are happening. I wanna help!" I clapped my hands together excitedly. "We can be partners! It'll be so fun."

"This is not a game, Tracey. You are a mother now. Think of your daughter. Whatever will she do if she loses her mother?"

"What will you do if your daughter loses you?" I countered. "We both have a kid, and we'd do anything to protect them, right?"

He nodded. "Of course."

"What's stopping the Cartel from taking one of our babies? It could happen, Smith, well again for you. I know how it feels to be targeted by those bastards. I wanna take them down just as badly as you do, its personal."

He frowned. "Going against the Cartel, you know better than anyone how bloody ruthless these people can be. If you choose this fight, again, we may not get as lucky as before. A gruesome fate may be lying in wait. Are you sure you want to brave this investigation with me?

I nodded stiffly. "If I get to save people, like those girls at the ranch, then hell yes. I can do this."

Agent Smith pat my head fondly. "Alright, love. Come, there is much to be done. We shall make a stop at Bean Machine for coffee first. I cannot work without caffeine in my system."

The saleslady marched back into our aisle. "Seriously, we're closing. You guys gotta go."

I pointed at the pile of shoe boxes I set aside. "I'll take these nine pairs, please."

She stared at the stack of shoes, her mouth gaping like a fish. "N-nine pairs?"

"That's right. I'm rich, bitch." I skipped ahead of Smith. "Race you to the car!"

After months of being bedridden with morning sickness and an uncomfortably huge effing stomach, I missed the excitement of my younger days. Fighting bad guys, saving people, almost dying at every turn—that was the life. I needed to feel the thrill of living again. No more sitting at home all day, bored and miserable. It was time to make a change!

Standing up to the Cartel was going to be a lot more complicated than before with a husband and a newborn baby depending on me, but I was up for the challenge. My dad had a double life, but he always made time for us. He did his best to keep his shady dealings separate from the family. Maybe I could do the same, except I wasn't a crook. Everything I do will be for the greater good, in the name of bringing assholes to justice.

With Agent Smith's support and guidance, I might even be good at it.

I hope you enjoyed the FINAL chapter. Thank you so much for reading and supporting me on this long journey, it means the world to me that you guys stuck around this long to finish this fanfic. You dealt with my super slow updates and I love you guys for it. Thank you again! Please leave a review, let me know if I wrapped things up okay, the last thing I wanted was for this story to feel rushed, so I hope the pacing was good! What did you think of the ending? Lemme know!

Since I'm all done with this story, I'll be taking requests! Hit me up on tumblr or just send message here :) I'll just be sticking to one shots for now on, since I'm going to be working on writing a novel of my own. We still need more Franklin content though, there isn't enough! Make sure to follow/fav me so you know when a one-shot drops! I MIGHT continue this story with a part 2 as well, we will see... Anyway, I love you guys! Thank you, thank you, thank you for reading!